


The Chase

by doop_doop



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Introspection, M/M, POV Ferdinand von Aegir, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 13:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/pseuds/doop_doop
Summary: Linhardt’s hand was resting palm-up on his open book. It was long-fingered and pale, delicate, without calluses or scars - so different from Ferdinand’s, which knew well the chafe of weapons. A noble hand, soft, almost like a woman’s in its delicateness.Ferdinand had never thought about another man’s hands like this before.Linhardt sleeps, and Ferdinand thinks.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 24
Kudos: 121
Collections: FE3H Rarepair Port's All Pairings Challenge





	The Chase

Two minutes into his explanation of the rules of polo, Ferdinand noticed Linhardt was asleep.

“Linhardt?” he said softly, just to make sure. “Hello? Linhardt, are you awake?” 

There was no reply. 

It should have been upsetting. After all, it was the middle of the day, and they were in the library, which certainly was  _ not  _ an appropriate place to nap. Not to mention the rudeness of it - falling asleep when someone else was talking to you! And when that person was answering a question _ you _ asked, nonetheless!

(Well, the question Linhardt had asked was actually “Do you do anything for fun?” but from his confused look Ferdinand had guessed Linhardt didn’t know what polo was - unthinkable, really - and he had rushed to fill in the gaps in his classmate’s knowledge, which was the kind thing to do.)

(But, now that he thought about it, maybe the expression had been less confusion, and more… tiredness. Or perhaps boredom? That would be regrettable, if so.)

In any event, it was terribly rude of Linhardt. He was sleeping in public - unbecoming of a noble. It wasn’t even subtle; Ferdinand was surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier. Linhardt’s chin was resting on one hand, elbow braced against the table. His mouth was slightly open, and, when Ferdinand held very, very still, the quiet cadence of Linhardt’s breathing was audible in the silent library.

It  _ should _ have been upsetting.

Confusingly, it was not.

The idea of waking Linhardt up was unthinkable. Ferdinand was filled with a strange protectiveness, as if Linhardt was something small and defenseless he’d been charged to take care of. There was a not-insignificant part of him that wanted to shut the door to the library, maybe stand outside and warn others away, just so Linhardt could finish his nap in peace. No, no, that was silly, and highly unnecessary to boot: it wasn’t as if students often went here in the sunny afternoons of their days off, anyways. At least, no one besides Linhardt.

That Ferdinand had come here had not been a coincidence. He had hoped Linhardt would be in the library already, in fact. “Come train with me!” Ferdinand had planned to say. “I noticed last week that your footwork when swordfighting needs work. Let me give you further instruction!” or, “What are you reading?” or even “How do you usually spend your days when you are not in the library?” But he had entered, seen Linhardt alone, and stopped dead, heart in his throat. After a moment, when he thought he had collected himself, Ferdinand had taken a deep breath, entered the library, sat down next to Linhardt, and said nothing. Not even hello!

It was Linhardt himself who’d spoken first, eyeing Ferdinand with no little suspicion as he began to sweat. Nervous? He, Ferdinand,  _ nervous? _ ...well, yes, it appeared so; monsters and enemy soldiers and the Professor could not do it, but Linhardt, sleepy-eyed Linhardt, rendered him incoherent and pathetic with a look alone.

And now, after they’d finally muddled their way into what might be called a conversation, if one were being generous, Linhardt had fallen asleep. It was a relief, honestly; without that steady gaze upon him, Ferdinand felt free to observe his classmate at his leisure without the pressure of maintaining a conversation. That would last until someone walked in, that was, or until Linhardt awoke - but, lucky for Ferdinand, both of those things seemed unlikely.

It had been weeks, but sometimes Ferdinand thought of the day he’d chased Linhardt down the halls. Linhardt’s hair had flown behind him, close enough sometimes to slip through Ferdinand’s fingers - Ferdinand had been careful not to grab it; that would have been terribly rude - and it had fallen mostly out of its ribbon, which had come half untied. Linhardt had even worked up a sweat, face flushed and chest heaving with exertion. It was the first time Ferdinand had actually seen him try hard at anything.

_ Linhardt, _ he wanted to say,  _ I want to chase you again. _

But why? Why did he want this strange thing? As a form of training, it was more common to run  _ alongside  _ someone, pacing yourself against them. But that wasn’t what Ferdinand wanted; that wasn’t what he caught himself daydreaming about when his thoughts wandered. He wanted the rush of adrenaline he’d felt when he had realized what was happening that day; he wanted the ache in his lungs as he struggled to catch up, the pounding of his oddly giddy heart. Linhardt’s back, always just out of reach - Linhardt’s eyes as he looked over his shoulder, playful, teasing, a little coy-

Linhardt made a noise, and for one awful second Ferdinand thought he’d woken up; but it was only an incoherent sleep-mumble, nothing more, and Ferdinand relaxed a second later. 

Linhardt’s hand was resting palm-up on his open book. It was long-fingered and pale, delicate, without calluses or scars - so different from Ferdinand’s, which knew well the chafe of weapons. A noble hand, soft, almost like a woman’s in its delicateness. 

Ferdinand had never thought about another man’s hands like this before. He had thought about ladies’ hands, sometimes: Dorothea’s, Manuela’s, other beautiful women he’d met or seen. He occasionally imagined how it might feel to be stroked by them - light fingertips on his cheek, nails gentle on his scalp, a hand caressing his hair. 

But this was Linhardt’s hand, and Linhardt was a man, without a doubt. So why did Ferdinand find himself imagining touching that hand, pressing a kiss to the palm and the inside of that wrist…? 

_ There is an answer, _ Ferdinand thought.  _ There is an answer, and I know what it is.  _ He did not like it, but answers did not care whether you liked them or not. 

Ferdinand wanted to chase Linhardt, and catch him, and hold him in his arms. He wanted to touch Linhardt’s hair, to feel Linhardt’s hands on him. He wanted things he blushed to imagine, things he would not dignify with words.

And Linhardt, knowing none of this, slept beside him, at peace in his ignorance.

“Linhardt,” Ferdinand said softly, so softly Linhardt wouldn’t have heard it even if he’d been awake. These desires were a problem for more reasons than he could name, but Ferdinand knew enough about human nature - and his own nature - to understand that hating something, or fearing something, did not make it go away.

Without warning Linhardt inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering open. “Ferdinand…?” he mumbled, voice groggy; then he seemed to remember where he was, and blinked. “What time is it?”

“I am not sure,” Ferdinand said. “However, you were only asleep for ten minutes or so. It is still the early afternoon.”

“Ugh,” Linhardt said. “That nap was too short.” 

“I am sorry,” Ferdinand said. No, no, no, he was  _ not _ sorry - or at least it was wrong to express that he was. “Actually, Linhardt, it was not proper of you to fall asleep here! It is a public place, definitely not meant for sleeping. It is a good thing you woke up on your own.” 

Linhardt stood, and Ferdinand’s face dropped. “Where are you going?” 

“To my room. You know, the place that  _ is _ meant for sleeping.”

“Oh,” Ferdinand said. He felt so disappointed he could have sworn. He had foolishly chased Linhardt away, and now his chance to spend time at his side was gone. “I see.”

The disappointment must have been evident in his voice, because Linhardt stopped and looked down at him. Those eyes, sleepy as they were, were piercing; if Linhardt told him he could read his thoughts, Ferdinand would have believed it. 

The moment seemed to stretch on and on, although it couldn’t have been over ten seconds in reality; finally Linhardt relaxed, his mouth curving up into a slight smile. “I know my room’s messy, but I do have space for someone to work at my desk,” he said. “And I don’t mind having you there while I sleep. Grab your schoolwork and come over. You know where it is.”

“Oh! Really?” Ferdinand asked - but he was speaking to Linhardt’s back. In a moment Linhardt was gone, and Ferdinand was alone.

He sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then he leapt out of his chair so fast it nearly toppled over and ran after Linhardt - hands clammy, heart pounding, a broad grin on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> [\- my twitter](https://twitter.com/doop_doop2)  
[\- the fe3h rarepair server](https://discord.gg/SPeGQcm) (come say hi!)


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